Dried, rotten brown leaves crunched under Jordan Fox’s boots as he pushed his baby stroller into the Manhattan cemetery’s ornate gateway. Dry flowers and half-burnt candles were strewn across the lawn. A gust of wind howled through the row of Eastern red cedar, breaking the grave silence as he proceeded to his late wife Kyra’s tomb. It was her first death anniversary.
“We’re going to see mama…” he told baby Alan, one of his triplets resting his bulky diapered bottom on his left hip. The other two, Eric and Stan, lay in the stroller, watching the sky and babbling at seeing dragonflies.
Upon reaching, Jordan’s heart raced at seeing a silhouette of a stranger, seemingly in his late 50s, standing near Kyra’s grave. The man adjusted his Irish cap as he leaned to brush the tombstone with the epitaph that read: A twinkle in our eyes & hearts is now on the skies. — In Loving Memory of Kyra Fox.
Jordan tried hard to remember but could not recognize the tall, stout man. “Who is he, and what’s he doing near my wife’s tomb?” he wondered and approached him…
“Amen!” said the man with a lopsided smirk as he finished with the sign of the cross, grimly turning around to greet Jordan. He smiled, eagerness filling his eyes as he raised his hand for a handshake but withdrew it as soon as his gaze shifted to the babies.
Jordan’s eyebrows narrowed in surprise. He wanted to know who this guy was and what he was doing at Kyra’s grave. As far as Jordan could recall, he had never seen this man around before…not even at Kyra’s funeral. “So, who is he then? And what’s he doing here?” Jordan was puzzled.
“I’m offering you $100,000! I’m ready to give you more if you want. Take the money and give me the babies.”
“You must be Jordan Fox…It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Fox,” the guy uttered. “I knew you would come here today, and I was waiting for you. I’m Denis…from Chicago…Kyra’s ‘old’ pal.”
Jordan was a little surprised because Kyra had never told him about having such a friend from Chicago who was old and whose name was Denis.
“Nice to meet you, Denis. I’m not sure I know you…Have we met before? I haven’t been to Chicago before.”
“Not really! I just arrived in Manhattan. I found out that…” Denis paused and gulped after seeing the babies again. “Can I see your babies…if you don’t mind?”
Jordan hesitated and pretended to ignore the man’s request because he was not ready to trust his tots with a stranger. Denis took that as a no but wouldn’t stop himself from walking forward and leaning over the stroller to see the other two babies.
“They are angels! Sweet little cinnamon rolls! They have my nose and eyes…and chestnut hair…” “And those big lashes…I had them when I was little!” blabbered Denis. He then looked up, saying the unthinkable Jordan was not prepared to hear.
“Mr. Fox, I know this might not make any sense to you, but…I know you’ll be wondering who I am and why I’m here. I’m the boys’ REAL FATHER, and I’ve come here to take them.”
“EXCUSE ME??” Jordan frowned and wanted to smack the man in the face for even saying this. He spared him for his age and tried to steal his way past him, thinking he was crazy.
“Mr. Fox, please believe me. I’m the father of the kids. A mistake I made in the past is still haunting me. I want to correct it before it’s too late. Please send the kids with me. I even have an amazing offer for you.”
“Are you crazy, old man? Get outta my way before I call the cops,” Jordan held the stroller and baby Alan tighter and ignored the guy.
But Denis wouldn’t budge, and he began disclosing intricate details about the late Kyra that startled Jordan.
“Kyra, your wife…She loved disco and bikes….was a brunette with a taste for art and French cuisine…Soupe à l’oignon and crème brûlée were her favorites. She was allergic to peanuts and had a small burn scar on her right thigh..and she had this…”
wife. Who the hell are you, and how do you know all this? What do you want?”
“I told you I’m the father of her kids. Mr. Fox, I know it’s weird, and I cannot get custody of my children. I know that, okay? But I’m sure you wouldn’t want to waste your youth on them and will appreciate my company in raising them. You are young and charming and still have an entire life ahead of you. But look at me. I am old and have nobody other than these babies. I want them back. Please hand them over to me and move on.”
“Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about. And it’s none of your business what I need to do in life, okay? Are you outta your mind, old man? You sound crazy…Go get a life. I don’t know you and think you’ve mistaken me for someone…Back off. And stay away from my children.”
Mr. Fox, the kids are mine, and that’s the truth…and I’m ready to do anything to take them with me. But I don’t want to mess things up for you since you raised them for so long. So lemme get this straight — I’m offering you $100,000! I’m ready to give you more if you want. Take the money and give me the babies.”
“I know more about your wife Kyra than you know about her. Take your time and get back to me, alright? Here’s my card.”
Tears of shock and grief sprang into Jordan’s eyes. He could not believe Denis knew so much about Kyra. For a moment, he wanted to think it was a fib, and some random older man was playing a prank on him. Alas, Jordan could not get over Denis mentioning the burn mark on Kyra’s right thigh.
“It’s not a bribe, Mr. Fox. See, I want to thank you for raising my babies, okay? And you needn’t worry about anything. I’m fifty-seven and have enough experience in raising kids. You must be glad to put them in good, trustworthy hands. I know what you must be feeling. But don’t worry. Take your time to think about it and do get back. Call me on this number, alright? I’ll be waiting. Denis Roberts hates a no for an answer, so….”
Denis tucked a visiting card into Jordan’s hand and hurried away, leaving him with more than just a shock and a heartbreak.
The flickering flame and candle smoke on Kyra’s tombstone snapped Jordan to the moment. He placed the bouquet on the grave, and after a minute of observing silence, he hurried out of the cemetery with his babies. For a moment, he was haunted by all that Denis told him.
Jordan could not focus on the road. He stopped his car at random intervals on the roadside, trying to concentrate, but in vain.
“Was everything she told me a lie then? How could she do this to me?” he cried, hallucinating Kyra sitting near him on the passenger seat. Jordan needed answers to many questions and did not want to buy Denis’s words.
But the part about the burn scar on her right thigh? He couldn’t help but suspect her, considering the circumstances under which he met her two years ago.
It was the spring of 2016. Jordan was making cocktail shots behind the bar counter when his gaze fell on a young and beautiful Kyra. She was with her friends and was the noisiest in the gang. Jordan thought she was pretty and desired to date such a gorgeous woman but never found the means or time to do it. As days passed, Kyra began frequenting the bar, and Jordan was more than delighted to attend to her whenever she visited.
